SHOKUJO,
daughter of the Sun, dwelt with her father on the banks of the Silver
River of Heaven, which we call the Milky Way. She was a lovely
maiden, graceful and winsome, and her eyes were tender as the eyes of
a dove. Her loving father, the Sun, was much troubled because Shokujo
did not share in the youthful pleasures of the daughters of the air.
A soft melancholy seemed to brood over her, but she never wearied of
working for the good of others, and especially did she busy herself
at her loom; indeed she came to be called the Weaving Princess.

The
Sun bethought him that if he could give his daughter in marriage, all
would be well; her dormant love would be kindled into a flame that
would illumine her whole being and drive out the pensive spirit which
oppressed her. Now there lived, hard by, one Kingen, a right honest
herdsman, who tended his cows on the borders of the Heavenly Stream.
The Sun-King proposed to bestow his daughter on Kingen, thinking in
this way to provide for her happiness and at the same time keep her
near him. Every star beamed approval, and there was joy in the
heavens.

The
love that bound Shokujo and Kingen to one another was a great love.
With its awakening, Shokujo forsook her former occupations, nor did
she any longer labor industriously at the loom, but laughed, and
danced, and sang, and made merry from morn till night. The Sun-King
was sorely grieved, for he had not foreseen so great a change. Anger
was in his eyes, and he said, "Kingen is surely the cause of
this, therefore I will banish him to the other side of the River of
Stars."

When
Shokujo and Kingen heard that they were to be parted, and could
thenceforth, in accordance with the King's decree, meet but once a
year, and that upon the seventh night of the seventh month, their
hearts were heavy. The leave-taking between them was a sad one, and
great tears stood in Shokujo's eyes as she bade farewell to her
lover-husband. In answer to the behest of the Sun-King, myriads of
magpies flocked together, and, outspreading their wings, formed a
bridge on which Kingen crossed the River of Heaven. The moment that
his foot touched the opposite bank, the birds dispersed with noisy
chatter, leaving poor Kingen a solitary exile. He looked wistfully
towards the weeping figure of Shokujo, who stood on the threshold of
her now desolate home.

Long
and weary were the succeeding days, spent as they were by Kingen in
guiding his oxen and by Shokujo in plying her shuttle. The Sun-King
was gladdened by his daughter's industry. When night fell and the
heavens were bright with countless lights, the lovers were wont,
standing on the banks of the celestial stream, to waft across it
sweet and tender messages, while each uttered a prayer for the speedy
coming of the wondrous night.

The
long-hoped-for month and day drew nigh, and the hearts of the lovers
were troubled lest rain should fall; for the Silver River, full at
all times, is at that season often in flood, and the bird-bridge
might be swept away.

The
day broke cloudlessly bright. It waxed and waned, and one by one the
lamps of heaven were lighted. At nightfall the magpies assembled, and
Shokujo, quivering with delight, crossed the slender bridge and fell
into the arms of her lover. Their transport of joy was as the joy of
the parched flower, when the raindrop falls upon it; but the moment
of parting soon came, and Shokujo sorrowfully retraced her steps.

Year
follows year, and the lovers still meet in that far-off starry land
on the seventh night of the seventh month, save when rain has swelled
the Silver River and rendered the crossing impossible. The hope of a
permanent reunion still fills the hearts of the Star-Lovers, and is
to them as a sweet fragrance and a beautiful vision.